


Again

by Semi_problematic



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 02:45:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14227392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_problematic/pseuds/Semi_problematic
Summary: "Make yourself at home." Carl jumped as Negans voice echoed through the room, pulling Carl out of his worried thoughts. Negan chuckled at Carls nerves as he stepped into his bedroom. "Put your shit where you want it, just don't touch mine. Lay in bed. Glare at the wall. I don't care." He turned around and looked at Carl. "This is your home now, kid. Enjoy it." He winked, walking past Carl, gripping Lucille tight in one hand.Carl grabbed his hand, stopping him. He moved in front of Negan and looked up at him, sighing. "Just- don't be gone long. It's late and-" Half of Negans men were looking at him like they could eat him. It was different choosing to be there. People feared him when he snuck in, they stared at him silently. Now their eyes follow him, hungry and wanting. They knew something was going on between them. They weren't idiots, it was obvious. But it was also obvious that Carl was letting his walls down for Negan. He was afraid the men would try to push inside. Carl glanced at one of the men in the hallway before standing up on his toes. "They're creeping me out."





	Again

**Author's Note:**

> Carl is 18/19 like always

Negans room seemed smaller than Carl remembered when he pushed the door open. It was neat for the most part, cleaner than Carls room, but also more filled up. Carl never really had anything in his room back at home. No. Back at Alexandria. This was his home now and this was his room. Negan was... Carls. Everything that Negan had Carl had. The power. The fear. The hatred. All of it. Carl wasn't sure if Negan turned him into who he was now, or if he was already this way and Negan helped him embrace it. 

The sun was setting outside, the dark glow of sun turning everything a warm yellow color. Carl always enjoyed sunsets. They were colorful and bright and never the same. Men outside began switching their posts, some going inside to rest while the others were just waking up and beginning their job. It felt like a military base, really. With all the guns and strict rules and punishments. It felt like Carl was trapped in a war movie where the zombies didn't matter anymore. The people were what he needed to look out for. And Carl did. He was on edge. 

"Make yourself at home." Carl jumped as Negans voice echoed through the room, pulling Carl out of his worried thoughts. Negan chuckled at Carls nerves as he stepped into his bedroom. "Put your shit where you want it, just don't touch mine. Lay in bed. Glare at the wall. I don't care." He turned around and looked at Carl. "This is your home now, kid. Enjoy it." He winked, walking past Carl, gripping Lucille tight in one hand. 

Carl grabbed his hand, stopping him. He moved in front of Negan and looked up at him, sighing. "Just- don't be gone long. It's late and-" Half of Negans men were looking at him like they could eat him. It was different choosing to be there. People feared him when he snuck in, they stared at him silently. Now their eyes follow him, hungry and wanting. They knew something was going on between them. They weren't idiots, it was obvious. But it was also obvious that Carl was letting his walls down for Negan. He was afraid the men would try to push inside. Carl glanced at one of the men in the hallway before standing up on his toes. "They're creeping me out." 

Negan chuckled, learning back. "That's what they're here for, kiddo. You'll be fine." He kissed the top of Carls head, backing out of the doorway. "Don't disappoint me. You broke in and killed my men. You got a giant hole in your face. Make them fear you." He turned around before looking back at Carl. "Relax, kid. Breathe. You're safe here, ain't no zombies getting in tonight!" He turned and walked down the hall, his voice booming every time he spoke to one of his people. 

Carl knew zombies weren't getting in. The thing he was fearing was already inside. The people. Negans people. Carl knew there was still good in the world but he couldn't help but be on edge. He had seen so many sick and twisted people play with Carl and his family as if they were toys. After the cannibals and the men who jumped them, Carl never really relaxed. Even when his father welcomed new people onto Alexandria he was worried. People weren't born bad, but it didn't take a lot to turn someone bad these days.

Sighing, Carl closed the door, turning the lock. He looked around the room. Paintings and heads of animals hung on the wall. A bed was neatly made, most likely by one of Negans wives. Empty beer bottles were scattered across the room, sitting on top of tables and leaning against the couches. There were a few books in the room, Carl believed that Negan put those in there for him. It was almost impossible for Carl to imagine Negan sitting down with a bloody bat by his side and cracking open a book. 

People walked up and down the hall outside, talking, giggling, whispering, and laughing. Carl would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He had just never stayed anywhere without the people he knew around. When his dad was gone he had Lori and Shane, and everyone else who treated him like he was their own son. Then Rick came back and Rick never really left. Even when he was broken and bloody, he was there for Carl. Protecting him and watching over him. Carl took a deep breath and reached up, tracing the brim of his hat. His dad was still with him. 

Another weird thing was being alone. There were so many people on Alexandria Carl never really had alone time. He was either helping people do their job or watching over Judith. Maybe even sneaking out with Enid just to be outside of the walls and feel control over something. Now he was alone. In a quiet and dark room where the man who killed his friends sleeps. 

It didn't feel real. Negan. The way he can be so cold and kill people without a second thought but also protect the people who are loyal to him. Carl knew it was stupid, moving in with Negan, but he also wanted to make his own choices. See if Negan really could give him all he promised. Negan had yet to betray Carls trust. He looked after Carl and taught him things. He walked around with Carl, showing him the ropes and explaining that he has as much control as Negan does now. His boy. That's what Negan could call him. He said it was more fitting than right hand man. Carl agreed. 

 

Carl stepped around the room, studying. Negans room was filled with the expensive things his mom would always look at in magazines. Lori would always complain about how they could never afford them. The fancy glasses she wanted or the couches that costed more than the cars they owned. Before the world went to hell Carl dreamed about giving her those things. He planned on being a famous soccer player and becoming rich just from that. He wanted to buy her all the fancy things she ever wanted.

Rick was different than his mom. Carl didn't need to become a rich and famous soccer player to give him the things he wanted. Rick just wanted to have Carl. To be close to him and to keep him happy. He always said Carls happiness was his own. Even though Rick didn't want any expensive things Carl still wanted to buy him something. Whenever they would drive around Rick would talk about owning a race car. That was his favorite thing to watch. Not football or basketball games, but races. He said when he was Carls age he would dream of speeding around the backroads in a race car. 

Sadly, Carl would never be able to give his family those things. Well, his mom at least. Even when Carl left, leaving his father crying and shaking and begging him to stay, his father still said that Carls happiness was his. If that meant Carl throwing away everything in Alexandria and running off with a dangerous man. Rick hated Negan, despised him. But he loved Carl. More than anyone or anything else. Carl was Ricks Lucille. The kid got him through. 

The door knob rattled and Carls blood went cold. It slowly opened, a man around the same height as Negan walking inside. He had scars covering his arms and legs and a iron mark burned on his face. Carl felt sick looking at him. He turned his back on the man and waited for him to speak or leave. Carl stared at one of the paintings, keeping his eyes on the image instead of glancing at the man who was now staring at him. Where was something he could use against him? A book? A knife? This was Negans room there should be weapons. Carl swore under his breath. Negan had convinced him that he didn't need his weapons inside the Sancrutary. He had never been more wrong. 

"Carl, right?" The man's voice sent shivers down Carls spine. The smile he wore on his face was sickening, lips curling around his teeth. He had a gun on his belt and a knife strapped to his leg. The man walked towards Carl, his smile turning into a smirk. Carl feared this man more than he had feared any zombie. There was no getting out.

"I had the door locked." Carl turned and faced him, straightening up. He looked at the door then the nightstand next to it. There was a knife. All he had to do was walk over and tell the man to leave. "How did you get in?" Carl stepped away from him, walking around the table that stood between the two couches. "Why are you here?" 

"Just came to greet our new member." He winked, stepping around the table in front of Carl. "Don't worry. I'm just being polite. Negan made us promise to give you the best treatment possible and well..." The way he looked up and down Carls body made Carl feel dirty. A feeling he was all too familiar with. "Take off the bandages. I wanna see-" 

"No!" Carl snapped. He backed up, walking past the couch. "In fact, I think you've been polite enough. I feel very welcomed. Now it's time for you to go." Carl rushed towards the door, grabbing the handle and the knife. He held it tight. "I've killed people. I wouldn't test me if I were you." Carl wasn't going to let it happen again. He wasn't going to feel weak and ashamed and ugly and used again. 

The man walked towards him, chuckling. "Kid, you need to calm down and realize who you are talking to." He slipped his gun out of his pants and pointed it at Carl. "This gun can do a lot more than that little knife can." He crossed his arms. "You're smart." It felt like a compliment when Negan said it but now it felt like a curse. "Close the door and put the gun down, darling." 

Carl gripped the knife tight, so tight his hand began to shake. He couldn't scream. He would get shot. He couldn't run. He would get shot. He couldn't fight. He would get shot. The man had him cornered and Carl was an animal, but he was also tired. So tired. He let go of the knife, the knife clattering onto the ground. 

"Good boy." Carl was shaking as the man stepped towards him, closing and locking the door. "Now... was that so hard?" He chuckled, grabbing Carl by the arm and dragging him towards the bed. He held both of Carls arms behind his back, digging his nails into the skin of Carls wrists. He kicked Carls legs apart and sighed. "God... it has been so long since I've been able to do this." 

Carl growled into the sheets, kicking and jerking around in the man's grip. "You're fucking sick!" He shouted, trying to pull his wrists out of his hands. "I'm gonna fucking kill you for this!" Carl couldn't escape. Mentally or physically. The man's hold only got more painful and tight. Each time he closed his eyes he could see it happening for the first time. Smell the dirt on the ground and the stench of the man who had him pinned with the weight of his body. 

"Kid, keep squirming. It's cute." The clicking of a belt filled the room and Carl felt nauseous. This was happening again. And no one was there to save him. No Daryl. No Rick. No Michonne. He was alone. The belt found itself wrapped around Carls wrists, causing each one of the bones in his wrist to grind against the other. The belt was tight, so tight Carl could feel the circulation in his hands being cut off. He rather die than be here. The click of a gun was more loud than the belt buckles clicks. "Maybe if you jerk around hard enough I can blow your pretty little brains out. Hows that sound?" 

Carl let out a noise that was something between a scream and a sob. The cold point of the gun pressed against the back of his head right above where his bandages wrapped around. The man's body was pressed against his while his free hand worked at Carls bandages. He unwrapped Carls face roughly, dropping the string of bandages onto the bed. 

"I didn't wanna have to do this the hard way." The man chuckled. "Now, do me a favor and keep squirming." The rustle of pants being pulled off was next to fill the room. Grimy fingers curled around Carls hips and dipped into the waistband of his jeans. He slowly pulled them down as if he wanted Carl to feel it. To remember it. "God. I'm so lucky Negan brought you here." 

Carl felt himself tensing and relaxing at the same time. He felt like he was going to throw up and his head was spinning with a million different thoughts. Fight. Scream. Beg. Cry. Give up. Carl shook his head and pressed his face against the sheets. It was happening. Again. And Carl could do nothing to stop it. It felt like some sick joke. Making him relive it. His pants were tugged down to his ankles, his boxers staying on.

The man pressed the gun to Carls temple. "Turn your head to the side. I wanna see your socket." The man's voice was a growl. It somewhat resembled a zombie, even though if Carl had to pick in between the man and the zombie he would pick the zombie. Zombies didn't choose to be that way. This man did. "God. You're fucking ugly, aren't you?" He slid his hands between Carls legs, fingertips grazing his thighs. "Only thing you're good for is being someones little bitch." 

Carl sobbed into the sheets, his entire body shaking. He couldn't do anything. Couldn't fight. Couldn't scream. He was stuck here alone with this man, being treated as if he was only an object. Carl felt like he was one, had felt that way since the first time. That he was nothing but a body to be used. To be pushed around and fucked and dumped. He wasn't made to live or be happy. He was made to be used and disposed of. Like a dirty secret. 

"You're being a big dramatic." The gun pressed further against Carls temple. "It's really not that bad as long as you just close your eyes and let me do what you want. But you love being dramatic. Love playing the victim." He drug the gun across Carls cheek. "You're here because you want this to happen. I mean, look at you. Everyone thinks you're some intimidating fighter and here you are. Bent over and spread out for me." 

Carl said nothing. He just swallowed and laid there, waiting. Carl began to pray, which is something he had stopped doing when his mom died. There wasn't anything to pray for. But now there was. His mother always said god would protect him. Carl knew it was a lie but maybe god could save him instead. He began to repeat every prayer he learned as a kid in his head. Over and over and over. Seconds turning into minutes. Tears drying on his cheeks. The man's hands moving ever so slowly. Killing Carl. Ripping him apart from the outside in.

"You're a broken little doll... missing an eye... god, you're lucky I have a thing for freaks. Because shit, kid. No one would want that. It's like looking at a god damn zombie." He hooked his fingers in the waistband of Carls underwear, peeling them off of him slowly. The door began to rattle but that didn't stop him. The door swung open, slamming into the night stand. "Wha- Oh my god." 

Blows began to land on the man or whoever came inside. Carl didn't know. He couldn't see it. All he could do was stand there, ashamed, and listen to the blows landing on each person. Dead weight fell into Carls back, something wet pouring down the back of his shirt and his hair. Then the weight was gone. Carl felt dizzy. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing. A thud hit the ground, Carl assumed it was the body of the man. Or a man. Maybe it was the one who broke in. Carl closed his legs. He didn't need more men like earlier walking in and seeing him. 

Hands curled around Carls thighs, spreading his legs. "Kid.." Negan. "Christ, kid. I-" Negan pulled his underwear up, then his pants. He undid the belt next, letting Carl stretch his arms out. He backed away from Carl, putting his hands up. "I'm so sorry... I... I don't let people in if they're like that. I swear and I didn't know he was coming over and-" 

Carl stood up, rubbing his wrists. He turned around and looked at Negan, sniffling. He walked towards Negan, looking down at the man, who was now dead on the floor, his brains and blood sinking into the carpet. "I tried to stop him." He was shaking.

"I don't doubt it, Carl." Negan leaned down a little, shrugging off his leather jacket and laying it across the back of the couch. "You're a badass, I know you would try to fight him." Carl walked into his chest, pressing his face against Negans shoulder. He began to cry again, his sobs causing his entire body to shake. "Shhh..." Negan kissed his temple. "You're safe now, darling. I won't let anyone hurt you. Never again." 

Carl clawed at Negan, struggling to find a good hold of his shirt. With the way Carl gripped him it seemed like he wanted them to be so close you couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. "I tried so hard.... it... it keeps happening, it always keeps happening, I'm weak... I'm useless... Ugly. Fuck.." Carl babbled into his shirt. 

"No, darling, you aren't." Negan scooped Carl up in his arms, holding him tight. "I won't let this happen ever again. I'm going to assign people to watch you and protect you when I can't. And if anyone so much even looks at you the wrong way I'll bash their brains in just like I did that freak. I swear to go-"

"Promise?" Carl was innocent and quiet. Like a child. A broken down, afraid child.

Negan didn't make promises he didn't intend to keep. "Promise."


End file.
